


Allegorical Battles

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [27]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Battling the virus, Ianto's mindscape, Legilimency and forgiveness, M/M, Old nightmares made new again, Time to finally heal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 14:06:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: The Doctor helps Ianto to access his magic so he can read Jack and open back up to their bond.  The three enter Ianto's mindscape to fight the virus in order to contain it.  Once it is contained, it can be eradicated, but at great cost...





	Allegorical Battles

It only took ten minutes for the potion to completely cleanse Ianto’s system of the painkillers and sedatives. He was in agony within five. Because they had removed the burn balm as well, he was already bleeding where the chemical burns had begun tearing again because of his writhing. Jack held and soothed him as best he could, but those watching knew all too well that this could soon get out of hand. 

Draco nodded to the Doctor once the potion had finished its work. It was clear that Ianto was doing everything he could to keep from screaming. The Doctor placed his hands on Ianto’s head and began helping the wizard to navigate the pain. Soon he calmed, though it was clear from the tension in his body that he was still experiencing the pain.

“Okay, you should be able to feel your magic now,” the Doctor said, his voice taut with the strain of raising Ianto’s consciousness above the physical.

Ianto could still feel the pain, but it seemed very far away. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt his magic all around him, once more. He reached out, blindly groping for Jack. He found either side of Jack’s head and pressed their foreheads together. 

“ _Legilimens_ ,” he breathed.

The Doctor fought to control the new dynamic as he felt Ianto gathering his magic. He closed his eyes and focused on maintaining the connection, despite the instinct to run for cover at the sheer volume and force of the magic he could sense.

Ianto gasped as he realized Jack had taken down every defense. It was a bit like walking off of a stair step just as you thought you’d reached the landing – a moment hanging in mid-air, and then a sudden jolt. 

He saw the events of the last few days from Jack’s perspective, and felt Jack’s remorse over his numerous blunders. Eventually, it would help Ianto gain a new insight on his lover’s mindset and behavior. For now, while it didn’t do much to take away the hurt feelings or pain, Ianto was at least able to understand what had caused it. 

It was an excellent beginning.

 _Forgive me, my Love_.

Ianto cried out as he pulled away from Jack, his eyes wide. Normally, the sound of Jack’s voice in Ianto’s mind was warm and sweet, like a summer breeze carrying the scent of lavender and the taste of honey. But Ianto had bloodied himself in protecting their bond, and today the soft appeal jangled his nerves and scraped painfully against the most tender places in his mind.

Jack looked into Ianto’s eyes as the golden swirl of the spell receded. They had removed the sleep mask, which had added to his lover’s pain, but it could not be helped. The Doctor had insisted that all attempts at mitigating Ianto’s pain be stopped in order to attempt this healing. 

Jack had often joked that Ianto’s eyes were the ocular equivalent of a mood ring. When he was focused, they were an intense shade of deep lapis. When he was happy, they lightened to azure. When he was angry, they turned a stormy grey. When he was aroused, they turned dark, with a small ring of blue almost glowing around blown pupils. 

But this… Jack had seen it before, of course. The night with Lisa, and the days following as Ianto mourned. And on the _Valiant_. Pain and anguish turned Ianto’s eyes the color of midnight, so dark the iris could not be distinguished from the pupil. The sight of it made Jack’s heart ache.

What made it worse was that the whites of Ianto’s eyes were now blood red. Subconjunctival hemorrhaging, Owen had called it, the result of the strain of carrying the constructive wave. And the swelling of the optic nerve, coupled with the chemical damage, meant that he could not see. Both Owen and Draco had said this was temporary, but it was unnerving, nonetheless.

Ianto moved his hands to either side of Jack’s face. His thumbs brushed along Jack’s cheekbones and over his eyebrows as Ianto tried to look towards Jack’s eyes. “You,” he breathed, “have been a complete and utter arse.”

Jack let out a surprised laugh. “Yes I have,” he admitted. “But I’m _your_ complete and utter arse, if you still want me.”

“Don’t be daft,” Ianto muttered, lowering his head, his breath coming in gasps. 

_But you hurt me, Jack_.

Ianto growled as he discovered that the discomfort of communicating telepathically with Jack went both ways. 

Jack looked up at the Doctor, whose face was drawn in concentration, and perhaps some discomfort. He kissed Ianto on the forehead. “I know. And I’ll make it up to you. But for now,” he hesitated. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you forgive me enough to reestablish our bond? Then I can defend it while you and the Doctor focus on containing the virus.”

“Of course I forgive you, Jack. Just…” Ianto sighed. “You’ll just need to give me time to get past this, yeah?” 

Ianto knew he could forgive Jack almost anything, because he knew it was not in Jack’s nature to be deliberately malicious. Sure, the almost-immortal talked a big game, but when it came down to it, he was as tender-hearted as Ianto. And how could Ianto not consider forgiveness, after the things Jack had forgiven him?

He gave a twitch, and then cried out as the pain seemed to redouble.

“All right, time to get moving,” the Doctor said. “It eased for a moment, then something in that last line of thought gave the virus more ammunition.”

“Lisa,” Ianto whimpered, unable to control his slide into the miasma of regret and despair.

“I know, Love,” Jack whispered, pulling him closer. “Doctor?”

The Doctor nodded. “Get ready, Jack. This will feel a bit… strange.” He reached out and placed a hand on the back of Jack’s head.

“Oh, if I had a pound for every time someone said that,” Jack grinned grimly.

***

The next thing Jack saw was a sort of tunnel – violet and indigo, swirled with golden light. It only took a moment for him to realize that he was moving along their bond. Part magic, part vortex, it was both of them, together. It physically pained him that it had a hollow, abandoned feel to it. 

At the opposite end of the bond from where he normally lived, there was a door. A massive arched, stone doorway held an ornately carved set of heavy oaken doors. Jack frowned. They looked vaguely familiar. He pulled one of the iron pulls, hauling the door open, and stepped out onto the front steps of the Hogwarts castle.

Jack smiled. The Doctor had said that the setting of Ianto’s mindscape would seem familiar. He carefully closed the door and stood in front of it.

“Jack!” Ianto and the Doctor approached from one side.

Jack reached out and embraced his lover, knowing that here he could do so without causing him pain. As they pulled back, he pressed a chaste kiss against Ianto’s lips. “This is amazing,” he said, looking around at the grounds. They were in many ways similar to the original, but there were some definite divergences, as well.

He was fairly certain there were no pterodactyls flying around the real Hogwarts, as an example.

Ianto looked around, as well. He was frowning. “It doesn’t look the same, but this _feels_ like the day of the battle. No giants or acromantulas, though.”

“No,” the Doctor looked around, as well. “I’m suppressing a lot of details that would only muddy the water. Think of this as a sort of allegory. The things you see will be symbolic of other things.”

Ianto was gazing off in the distance. “Like my healing factor is your TARDIS, parked down by the lake?” Something dark was swirling around it, but it was definitely the TARDIS.

The Doctor frowned, seeming surprised at this development. “Apparently so.” He looked at Ianto. “And given where and when we are, the virus will likely appear as Death Eaters.”

Ianto looked grim. “Any particular reason you chose a beloved place and one of the worst days of my life for this?”

The Doctor shook his head. “I’ve merely provided a focus. Your subconscious has provided the setting, and the form the virus has taken.” He frowned. “I’m actually surprised that it’s not Canary Wharf.”

Jack decided to point out the obvious. “Death Eaters are human. They can be battled and defeated. Cybermen and Daleks?” He shrugged. “Might seem like insurmountable odds.”

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully and Ianto reached out and squeezed Jack’s hand. He was still scanning the distance, and he could see the shadows approaching. “So what do we do? Use magic? Fight them? Try to kill them?”

“Remember, this virus is opportunistic, but only aggressive when capitalizing on a weakness.”

“Cowardly, then,” Ianto nodded. “Any resistance will have it on the run?”

“I believe so, if you’re inclined to anthropomorphize it,” the Doctor replied. 

“Well, they are showing up as people,” Ianto pointed out.

“True,” the Doctor admitted. “I should tell you that I took the liberty of making certain escape routes more… visible than others.”

“Pain centers?” Jack asked.

“Right,” Ianto nodded. “Here they come.”

“What’s the plan?” Jack asked, knowing Ianto had been assessing and weighing his options has they talked.

“You keep the door safe,” Ianto said, looking tenderly from it to Jack. “It’s the priority.”

The Doctor had a vaguely exasperated expression on his face. “ _I_ would say that the priority should be to drive the virus – the Death Eaters – to the pain centers, where they can be trapped and eradicated.”

“Which is what you and I will do,” Ianto grinned maniacally at the Doctor, who for a brief moment tasted his own medicine and was disconcerted to find that he wasn’t entirely sure he liked the flavor. But then Ianto looked unsure. “Unless you’re not staying to help,” he said, frowning as the shadows crept nearer. They were beginning to take the shape of people – people wearing dark robes and white masks.

“No, no. I’m here to help,” the Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. At Ianto’s raised eyebrow, he waved it and said, “The frequencies can’t kill the virus, but they can make it very uncomfortable.”

Jack looked out at the throng of Death Eaters approaching and felt a moment of unease. There were _so many_. But then, the Doctor had indicated that the virus had seized the opportunity when Ianto had been injured. It had been running rampant for days, now. He pulled his Webley and watched as Ianto and the Doctor walked out to meet the advancing foe.

Ianto raised his arms and hedgerows rose up, funneling the Death Eaters towards him and the Doctor. It created a bit of a bottleneck and kept the virus from flanking them. Jack watched in awe as wandless, Ianto sent spell after spell hurtling towards great swaths of the enemy. Those that fell turned to shadow and receded towards various points around the lake.

Inevitably, some got past the Doctor’s sonic and Ianto’s spells, but it kept Jack from being tempted to join the fray. He shot any that came near, and like the rest, their shadows retreated. 

He became concerned when one of those that got past a spell bore down on Ianto. The two brawled for several minutes before Ianto’s right hook (Jack almost felt sorry for the Death Eater) knocked the villain on his arse, the mask flying.

Ianto staggered back. “Henley?”

A sullen looking sixteen year-old glowered back at him. “What’d ye expect?” he snarled. 

“You,” Ianto looked pained. “You always said…”

“Yeah, and ye always believed it,” spat the young man. 

“I believed you,” Ianto nodded. “Even when they said… I never believed them.”

“Well now ye know,” young Henley Throckmorton spat, laughing insanely as a group pushed past the Doctor, using Ianto’s distraction to make a break for the door to the castle.

Ianto cursed and delivered a wicked uppercut, sending the ghost of his former classmate to the shadows. He ran towards the door, where Jack was now outnumbered. Using spell after spell, he swatted the Death Eaters away, until there was only one.

She was standing two steps above and behind Jack, holding a knife to his throat. “Let me pass, and I won’t bleed him,” Bellatrix LeStrange said, her voice fevered. Then a slow, evil smile spread across her lips. “Or maybe this would be more fun,” she said, drawing the blade across Jack’s throat and holding him up as blood pulsed from the wound. As the flow of blood slowed, she pushed him down.

He was dead before he hit the ground. But then, so was she. Without knowing how he got there, Ianto was standing before her, taking her head in his hands and wrenching it, hard and fast, breaking her neck.

He slowly turned back to the battle.

Had Jack been there, he would have noticed that Ianto’s eyes had gone a shade of indigo that he had never seen before. Ianto gathered his magic to him and invited the Doctor to take cover…

***

The Doctor still had one hand on Ianto’s head and the other on Jack’s. Owen began cursing when Jack rolled onto his back, clearly dead. The Doctor moved both hands to Ianto and gritted out, “Any and all of you that can set up a shield charm, you might want to do it. They’ve made him… a bit angry.”

Hermione and Harry had shown up after the Doctor had begun. They came down now and, along with Draco and Luna, set a series of shield charms in place. They could all feel the magic that Ianto was gathering to him, and the rage behind it.

Luna placed a shield charm between the Doctor and Ianto, allowing him to maintain contact but trying to protect him from whatever was about to happen. That much magic could not be gathered without needing to be discharged…

***

Ianto threw a tremendous shield at the door, and with the rest of the magic he had gathered, he screamed as he turned it loose. Magic flew out from him in a tight wave that rippled from him like a pond around the spot where a stone has been cast.

It was like trying to wrap his arms around a tornado. It was wild and terrifying and so _free_ that it hurt, in both good and bad ways. He was surprised to find that he was still in control, that he could see that all of the Death Eaters – all of the _virus_ – had now retreated, following the well-worn paths the Doctor had established. They were now all in place. It was time for him to do the same, but his legs gave way.

***

The air was still crackling from the wave of magic that had exploded from Ianto. He had let out a terrifying scream, and then the wave had knocked everyone over. Surprisingly, it had done no real harm, besides sending them toppling. 

Toshiko was checking her computers and was surprised to see that everyone on the Plass had been knocked over, as well. She began working on a cover story about a low-level earthquake.

As the others picked themselves up, they noticed the crackling energy in the air. It felt like champagne bubbles fizzing against the skin. The four wizards and witches were leaning against one another, giggling as though they were punch-drunk. The Doctor looked a bit worse for wear, but he was still standing. 

Jack had revived, breathing in part of the wave as it emanated from Ianto’s body. He was just now getting his bearings.

“Doctor?”

“Be quick, Jack,” the Doctor warned, reaching out to Jack, once more.

***

Jack flew through the door and found Ianto lying at the foot of the steps. “Ianto!”

“Jack?” Ianto looked up as Jack pulled him into his lap and held him. “Jack, I need to get… somewhere,” Ianto trailed off as he nuzzled into Jack’s neck. Perhaps it could wait, whatever it was.

“That was a pretty impressive display,” Jack whispered into Ianto’s hair. “You all right?”

“Are you?” Ianto pulled away and looked at Jack. “Oh, gods, Jack. She… She…” he sobbed into Jack’s neck.

“Who was it?” Jack asked, though he was fairly certain he already knew.

“Bellatrix LeStrange,” Ianto whispered the name of his nightmare. “Oh, gods, she killed you. She actually killed you.”

“Shh,” Jack soothed, rocking Ianto to and fro. “It was the virus. It wasn’t really her. And I’m right here. I’m fine.”

“Is my healing factor free?”

Jack looked towards the lake and spotted the TARDIS, no longer shrouded in darkness. “Yes,” he said, kissing Ianto’s temple.

“Jack, Ianto, we need to take care of this before the virus regroups,” the Doctor said quietly.

Ianto sniffed and nodded, sitting away from Jack. “So you just bring me back to full consciousness, and let the pain burn up the virus?”

“Yes,” the Doctor looked aggrieved. “I will keep the connection, to be sure it is completely eradicated. I’m sorry, but it will be very painful.”

“How long will it take, Doctor?” Jack asked.

“I’m hoping no more than ten minutes, or so.” He looked at Ianto. “Do your best to hold on, Ianto. I know it will be difficult.”

Ianto’s face was determined. “Just let me know how it’s going, maybe? That might help me focus.”

The Doctor nodded. 

Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto and kissed him. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right beside you. If I could take on any portion of this, you know I would.”

“I know.” Ianto kissed Jack. “I’ve missed your face,” he smiled. He turned to the Doctor. “Let’s get this over with, I suppose.”

The Doctor gave a curt nod and lowered Ianto’s consciousness back into his body.

***

As much as Ianto loved to give Jack grief about his philosophising, he was well aware that he did more than his fair share of it, as well. People could not spend as much time in their heads as Ianto did and that not become an indulgence. Ianto’s problem, if he were to admit to having one, was that he _thought_ just a bit too much. Couldn’t be helped, really, with a mind as active and intelligent and curious as his. But one thing did tend to lead to another, after all.

The current philosophy was one he did not even realize he had. After all, how much does one really dwell on the nature of pain, in normal circumstances? Apparently, he’d had cause to come up with something. Admittedly, that might well be the thing that helped him cling to his sanity as the Doctor’s estimated ‘ten minutes, or so’ trebled. They were now approaching the thirty minute mark, and Ianto was in agony.

As a distraction, he’d begun pondering the concept of pain. He had once heard someone say that comparing pain was impossible, because even a moderate level of misery could expand to take over someone’s existence. He wondered if that were true – if someone who lost one person could be as miserable as someone who had lost everyone. 

It was not a new thought. He had wondered about it after he lost Lisa, for the final time. He had lost so much, and yet he was still here (admittedly, despite his best efforts, at times). Whereas some, who had lost very little by empirical comparison, had chosen to (successfully) throw in the towel. 

He supposed it must be relative after all, for someone’s misery to be so all-consuming that there was no way to muddle through the pain until it eased enough to allow for normal things, like breathing and blinking and eating and being awake without experiencing so much pain that the basics of life felt untenable.

Nothing had, or (Ianto dearly hoped) ever would, compare to the suffering he had experienced after Canary Wharf was finally over. The mental and emotional anguish had been unparalleled, even if the physical pain was relatively minor. 

And on a purely physical level, nothing would ever compare to the _cruciatus_ curse. It was inherently evil, designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain a body was capable of experiencing.

And yet…

This was damned near as bad. He could not say it was _quite_ as bad, since he was still able to have these little moments of reflection. After all, the reason that the _cruciatus_ rendered people insane was because the pain chased away all coherent thought. There was no rising above or dissociating from the effects of the curse. 

He had no idea what had kept him sane under Bellatrix’s attentions, other than the frequent intervals where she stopped so they could laugh at his pain. He’d not been so broken that _that_ hadn’t had him absolutely tamping, and his fury had allowed him to focus enough to take a breath and feel the earth beneath him before she started in again. Had that been enough? Was it, at the end of the day, sheer and utter defiance that allowed him to endure?

Of course, this was all operating under the questionable assumption that he had, in fact, remained sane.

But, given that assumption, he still had no other explanation for how he had accomplished something that should not have been possible. 

_Now_ was a different story, altogether. He was, metaphorically speaking, hugging himself and rocking in a corner, relatively dissociated from the pain his body was experiencing. Occasionally the Doctor would remind him to check in, to be sure he still could. After all, it wouldn’t do to let _this_ be the thing that ruined him.

[Seemed bloody-mindedness was his saving grace…

 _Must remember to tell Owen that._ ]

So now he checked in as the Doctor told him that about eighty percent of the virus had been eradicated. He attempted some quick maths and realized he had another eight minutes or so to endure, assuming all went apace. He retreated once more as he realized his body was weakening. Did he have eight more minutes in him? He couldn’t be sure. The uncertainty gave him a moment of panic that dumped him back in his body.

“Ianto!” he heard Jack cry out as his body expressed its panic. 

He tried to breathe, to center himself so he could escape, once more. Some part of him noticed that his voice was ruined and broken. He was still screaming, but the sound was different as his vocal chords protested the abuse. Everything hurt, so spectacularly. He felt Jack holding his hand, and felt Jack’s other hand on top of his head. He felt the Doctor cradling his head with both hands. He felt Luna holding his right hand. Draco and Owen were holding his knees and ankles, attempting to keep him still.

Everywhere they touched him, he felt a deep, burning torment that redoubled the pain in the rest of his body. But their touch was grounding. He would not have asked them to let him go, even if he had the breath to make the request. It was a comfort, even as it added to his pain.

He realized he had retreated again as he began to ponder the wonder of what people are willing to endure, for the slightest hint of love and comfort. This thought led to the question of whether just about anything can be endured, if one has a good enough reason to endure it. He thought again of those terrible months, taking care of Lisa. 

This decidedly unhelpful line of thought was interrupted when Doctor called him back at thirty-five minutes. He was surprised that he had stopped screaming, because the pain had not eased. Then he realized. He had further weakened. He would have to stay now, to hold on. But could he? The weakness was dragging at him. He had never experienced anything like this. It was like a battery running out of juice.

“Jack,” he gasped.

“I’m here, Love. Not much more,” Jack looked at the Doctor, who was shaking his head.

“He’s weakening, but the virus isn’t gone, yet.”

“Hold on, Ianto,” Jack said, his voice tinged with desperation.

Ianto struggled for breath. How much more? He tried to hold on, but he felt so weak. So tired.

In the next instant, Jack had attached himself to Ianto’s mouth. In a moment of utter madness, Ianto wondered when he’d last brushed his teeth. 

Then he felt it.

Jack breathed into his body, and he found himself greedily breathing in the energy of the vortex. It was dissipating almost as quickly as Jack forced it in, but grasping at what he could was giving Ianto the strength to hold on. 

“Not much more, Ianto,” he heard the Doctor grit. He could tell this was taking a toll on the Time Lord, as well, though he didn’t have the excess capacity to consider how or why.

 _So tired_.

How much more?

And then, he felt something shift. Something lighten. A memory came in of a time when the bottom had dropped out of his backpack, at school. Out had come all of his textbooks, and he had pitched forward at the sudden redistribution of weight as his burden suddenly fell away.

He counted a long thirty seconds, feeling the Doctor checking all the corners and cupboards and closets and under all the beds, so to speak. Finally, _finally_ , he announced that it was done.

Ianto sagged in relief. Had he the energy, he may have sobbed or laughed or done _something_ to acknowledge the release. But all he could do was struggle for his next breath. It was surprisingly difficult, and then he remembered he was still injured. He and the Doctor had liberated his healing factor, but it had not yet had the chance to do its work.

He tried for another breath, but it was just too hard. He realized it was easier to just breathe a bit less. At this point, his body was fighting breathing more than not breathing. He wondered if there was any harm, just this once, to take the path of least resistance.

As though he’d read Ianto’s thoughts (oh, wait…), the Doctor slid his hands out from where they had been cradling his head. “Well done, Ianto. I think you’ve earned your rest.”

He felt Jack’s lips on his, once more. “Rest now, Kitten. You’ve fought so hard, and you’ve won this one. I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.”

Ianto wanted to reach out to Jack, to comfort the tears he heard in his lover’s voice. He managed to turn his head towards Jack, the smallest bit. He heard Jack sob and kiss his forehead.

He vaguely wondered how long it had been since his last breath, but he couldn’t muster the strength to take another. Everything was getting quiet and dark and weightless. It was soothing. Almost comforting. He opened his mouth and spent the last of his breath to whisper, “Jack.”

***

Jack did not like the fact that he was losing count of the number of times he had watched Ianto die. He was once again struck that his lover had much more forbearance, that he was able to endure Jack’s many deaths with something approaching calm.

As soon as Ianto breathed his last, the Doctor fainted. Jack let Owen and the others see to him. He had no plans to leave Ianto’s side. Jack had found that the only comfort he had ever enjoyed in any of his resurrections had been when Ianto was with him to soothe his way back into the world. Even now, when the vortex was no longer quite so violent in returning him to life, the presence of his lover alleviated much of the anguish and disorientation he experienced. He had resolved to provide that same comfort to Ianto.

The Doctor was placed on a camp bed at the end of the room, with Martha and Donna fluttering around him. Owen had scanned him and determined that it was simple exhaustion. The Doctor had held Ianto steady, allowing him to dissociate from the pain for long intervals. But in ensuring that the path was clear each time for Ianto to return, he had overtaxed himself.

When he woke, Draco offered him a rejuvenating potion. Donna and Martha tried to prevent this, having seen its effects on the normally calm and sedate Ianto; however, they were a moment too late, and the normally manic Time Lord was soon behaving like a three year-old on a post-Halloween sugar rush.

Once the Doctor was safely exiled to the TARDIS to burn off some of his excess energy, away from everyone else, the team began setting the hub to rights and quietly regrouping. Jack had attempted to send everyone away, but they had stayed, not realizing the toll that witnessing Ianto’s pain would take.

In the thirty-seven and a half minutes of hell, their teammate had only stopped screaming long enough to draw breath in order to scream some more. It had been traumatic for all involved, but each felt it was important to bear witness. After all, this was the culmination of Ianto’s brave and selfless sacrifice that finished the 4-5-6. None of them had been able to help, and there was little they could do now, other than be there for Ianto.

In the renewed silence of the hub, they all took a breath of relief, hoping against all hope that the nightmare was finally coming to a conclusion. That _now_ , Ianto could heal.

Draco and Owen chased everyone from the med-bay. All but Jack and Luna actually left. Hermione and Harry left, but not before calling in Susan to help. Luna levitated Ianto’s body from the table as the others gently washed him. Owen changed his IV line, which was a bit of a challenge, without actual blood flow. 

Luna changed the mattress and linens and Susan wrapped Ianto in goop, once more. They replaced the sleep mask and arranged him as comfortably as possible, and Owen attached a heartrate monitor so they would know the second Ianto returned.

Now all they could do was wait…

***

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so writing has been like pulling teeth for the last five or six weeks. Life is funny, sometimes, though not always in an amusing way.
> 
> That said, this past week has given me the gift of TWO really productive writing days, and this is the result. Sorry, it's a bit rough on our Niffler, but it gets much better, from here. I see the next part as being lots of 'working things out' between Jack and Ianto. Jack has finally told me how he'll be making things up to Ianto, so that will be included, as well. Might extend to two parts, depending on how much they talk, and because some interesting things will happen while... well. We'll get to that.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, and as always - thank you for reading!


End file.
